Of Weather that Surrounds You

My favorite kind of weather has to be something like;

Right before a huge, powerful thunderstorm, when you can see the dark clouds and you can feel the pressure build, and the heat and humidity is there. And you're standing and you're waiting and the anticipation and power is zipping through the air. Or you're on a bike and you're gliding down the street and there's a few drops on the ground and on your skin, but it's not even the beginning, it's like the drops just make everything build even more. It's silent and calm, every living thing can feel the storm coming, and then the thunder sounds, and soon you know it will break open the entire sky.

Or it's drizzling very lightly. And there's fog everywhere. Or should I say that the other way around? And it's cool, and you can feel every miniscule droplet on your skin, and it slowly weighs your hair down but not too much. And it feels as if you're alone in some other world, and you're not worried because it's perfect. Anything can be anything, and you too can be anything. And it's so silent that you might be the only person there.

Or it's an early-autumn day, and it's drizzling heavily, not quite rain, and the air is cool to the touch and the droplets aren't any warmer, and you're running around getting all sweaty and mucky, and you've got to ditch the coat you put on before you came out, because you're not the least bit cold inside. The outside of you is cold to the touch- your skin is like ice, but there's a fire inside you and the rain hits you and cools in trickles, but is no match for the heat inside you. And if you stop for too long, you go from hot to unbearably hot to cool, and you never want to be contained within walls ever again.

Or it's right after a huge snow storm, and the side walks are piled with snow on either side, and there's snow falling lightly around you, and it might be a little too warm in your winter coat, and the whole world around you is silent. Even the busiest of streets is somehow muted by the snow scattered around everywhere. Your hair sticks to your face from the snow, and it's nice for once, even though you sometimes (frequently) swear you hate the stuff. It's times like these that make you remember just why you put up with winter in the first place, and that it might not all be about the summer that eventually comes when all this white stuff is gone. And it's times like these you'll remember all year round, and maybe in the confines of your mind you might wish for winter to come quicker, just for another one of these.


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